Rule Number 10
by StarProphecy7279
Summary: There is a document, revered as nearly religious outlining the expectations and limitations of being a Nation. In an eventful trip to the New World, Spain forgets those warnings along with what was once important to him. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE.
1. Chapter 1: An Eventful Trip

Don't you just hate the 255 character limit?

Full Summary: There is a document outlining the expectations and limitations of being a Nation. It is revered to a nearly religious degree by all nations, including the young Kingdom of Spain. But, when a visit to the New World brings about some _very_ unexpected feelings and events, Spain forgets everything he once closely followed in the National Doctrine. Suddenly, his life, previously so controlled and perfect, begins spinning out of control until he's unable to recognize any of it, including the face in the mirror.

Warnings: Language, scenes of a graphic sexual nature, violence, out of character (?) characters. Spain starts this story out as a jerk. It's just who he was at this point in history.

Story Notes: All English indicates they are speaking a specific language that only Nations can understand. Nations can move very fast when they want to… and I think that's it more. If I think of others. Always read the Author's Notes.

Chapter summary: Antonio Fernandez Carriedo arrives in the New World, (with company) and meets someone new.

Chapter Warnings: Violence and language, both derogatory and possibly incorrect. Spanish is not my first language ^^" Feel free to correct me.

And thus… we begin.

Rule number 1: A Nation's first responsibility is to its people.

Rule Number 2: A Nation must always think of the rest of the world before its own desires.

Rule Number 3: A Nation must follow the will and commands of its leader unless said will or commands are resented by its people.

Rule Number 4: A Nation must never directly harm humans.

Rule Number 5: Likewise, humans cannot cause direct, lasting damage to a National Persona. Only the attacks on the people and land of the nation will cause any affect.

Rule Number 6: A Nation must take full responsibility for all actions committed in their name, whether their Persona was involved, or even agreed with the action.

Rule Number 7: Nations are never to lie to their bosses or their people.

Rule Number 8: Nations have no control over what happens to them when they fall.

Rule Number 9: A Nation cannot end his own life.

Rule Number 10: A Nation must never forget it is not human. A Nation must also never forget that the nations around it are not human.

No one knew where this document had come from. No one knew who or what had authored it. It had been around for as long as any of them could recall, since before the days of Empires and even Indigenous Civilizations. But everyone knew what it said and everyone followed its guidelines. At least they did most of the time….

The one rule no one could really wrap their head around was the tenth. Many speculated whoever had created the National Doctrine had simply wanted an even number ten and added the last to get it. Very few realized the significance of that warning. Only those who had broken the tenth rule knew why it existed: when you forget you're not human, you attempt to break all the other laws.

In the early sixteenth century, a power-hungry, passionate, and unsuspectingly foolish nation broke Rule Number 10, and learned firsthand why it was the most important.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was a man of God. Everything he did he did in the name of the Lord. It was his legacy, one he was very proud of. He was known all through out Europe for being exceedingly cruel in the name of his faith. This, he was also proud of; it was God's work he did and people should fear and respect him for that.

And Indeed they _did_ fear him; all through out the continent, people were terrified of his strength, hated him for his power, did all things imaginable to tear him down but to no avail. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was the most powerful man in the world.

However, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was not technically a man; he was a Nation. The Kingdom of Spain to be exact, and now, with the discovery of the New World credited in his name, he had reached a new level of power and influence. There was little about himself he could say he was _not_ proud of.

Of course, even _he_ had his faults. There did happen to be one thing Antonio Fernandez Carriedo did not like about himself. It was not his aggression, or his two-faced-ness, or his long, grueling, bloody history (he actually rather liked that) but something rather vain. It was the color of his skin. Throughout Europe people's value was placed on their skin color. If he had not been a Nation, he would likely have been a slave. Unlike the other Countries and indeed the vast majority of his people, Spain's skin was dark, a chestnut color in reality. Despite how pale he was in all the measures he took to hide this shameful secret, his skin still shown brown.

There wasn't a single living soul that knew this of course; every morning before he allowed himself to be seen, he would paint his face and neck with a primitive make-up he had fashioned himself when he was very young, when people began calling him a heathen because of the way he looked. He was never seen without his sleeves covering his entire arm and he absolutely always wore gloves, even when eating. Everyone believed him to look just like everyone else now and those who knew otherwise knew better than to cross him by revealing this secret. No one would ever believe it regardless. He was too _refined_ to be like them, too _elegant_, to not have pale skin, too _successful _to truly by Moorish in reality. It was irrelevant that his skin was dark because he knew to act as if it was not. And no one was any the wiser.

That include anyone he planned on meeting on this particular excursion. With the discovery of the New World so fresh in everyone's mind Nations from all over were flocking to lay claims on a piece of it. He would have no one robbing him of too much of what should be rightfully his. His people had already marked several areas as his own but his boss had demanded he sail down himself to negotiate formally. He had been… reluctant to embark on this mission. For one thing, it was an _extremely_ long one; he'd be away from his home for two years at the least, not a long time considering he was immortal but a very long time considering who he had waiting for him all alone in his house… well more like brooding.

His favorite—if not most temperamental—little colony Romano was beginning to warm up to him… at least that's what he liked to think. It was true Romano had begun to behave much more civilly than before (sort of) but he still seemed to resent Spain. Spain supposed he could not blame the small Nation, he would, after all, likely be very upset to be under another Country's command. Still, Romano didn't realize how lucky he was; Spain was much more lenient with Romano than his other colonies. Romano was just too cute to be cruel to. Lucky little bastard….

Anyway, Romano tended to get himself into trouble when Spain was gone. Romano would of course never admit to worrying about him but he tended to forget about his basic needs such as… eating when his boss was away. Spain worried Romano would make himself sick or even get hurt or kidnapped by one of his neighbors. France _had_ had his eye on the small Italian for some time….

But Spain was trying to put those thoughts to the back of his mind. It proved to be considerable difficult as he embarked on his voyage; somehow, through out the entire trek across the sea on his ship, he felt like he was sensing the small colony, his National sixth sense telling him falsely that the young Nation was near. He knew it was impossible once they departed from the coast of his homeland but he was almost certain he felt something. It must have just been that Romano was making him sentimental. How adorable.

And that was what had led him here, to a lush forest, the kind he hadn't seen in centuries. Spain was struck by how beautiful the land was even as they approached the coast. The lush forest shone like an emerald on the water, as the fleet approached the mysterious New World. Even in his homesickness, Spain felt himself squirming slightly with excitement and delight as he stood at the bow of the ship watching the landmass grow larger and larger at an impossible rate (due solely to his presence on this mission). He absolutely adored exploring… and conquering but that would come later. He could not wait to dock and get off this infernal boat.

Though he would be lying if he said he didn't love sailing. Sure, the constant threat of an ambush by a British fleet was rather irritating but he found the sea irresistible. He turned his bright, green-eyed gaze from the shoreline to the ocean below, watching the water ripple as the ship disturbed its smooth progression. He looked only for a moment before he had to raise his head and shake his long, curly, brown hair out of his eyes, the red ribbon that held it back doing nothing to keep it at bay in the salty sea air, a particularly vicious gust rustling the tails of his signature, red coat.

"¿Señor?"

He turned to look over his shoulder at the man's call and chuckled at his nervous stance and the awkward way he wrung his hands together. The man, Hernán, was the leader of the fleet of 550 of Spain's men, at least he was formally. It would be too big of a risk for all 550 Spaniards to be made aware of the existence of National Personas and Spain couldn't lead undercover as a human as he was too young, barely nineteen years of age in appearance to be a believable general. Hernán was, therefore, the only one aware of "Señor Carriedo's" true identity. He was also charged with keeping that fact a secret and following Spain's orders to a T or face serious consequences upon returning home. It evidentially had him on edge.

"Nosotros… acoplaremos pronto. El mar es profundo suficientemente navegar a la orilla." [We… will be Docking soon. The water is deep enough to sail directly to the shoreline.]

"Excelente. Gracias. ¿Qué planes tenemos por cuando acoplamos?" [Excellent, thank you. What plans do we have for when we dock?]

"Esta noche, solo preparar campo." [tonight, Only to set up camp.]

"Perfecto. Explorará un poca antes de el sesión." [perfect. I'll explore a bit before the meeting.]

"Como usted desea, Señor. Preparará todo cuando está lejos." [As you wish, sir. I'll prepare everything before you return.]

"Gracias, Hernán. Tú estás despedido." [Thank you, Hernán. You are dismissed.]

"Si, Señor."

Spain decided not to stick around at all for the preparations of the place that would be his home for the next two years (well, more likely only a few weeks but that was beside the point). He could lay a blanket on the shoreline and sleep under the stars for all the difference it made to him—in fact that sounded a bit more appealing. He decided to allow the others to spend hours taking care of the essentials. He had more pressing matters to attend to. Such as speeding through the countryside, jumping over rocks and trees, laughing hysterically. The fact that he was powerful didn't mean he had to be mature. He decided he loved this place-would love it even more when it belong to him. It was beautiful, the kind of place home had been when he was still very young, before he had been worried about the way he looked and seizing power. It was… somewhat nostalgic to be racing through this forest, jumping over tree roots. A part of him wished Europe was still this lush and carefree.

He jumped to a tree branch, gripping it so his feet dangled off the ground for a moment before he pulled himself to sit upon it and rose, shakily to his feet, holding the trunk of the tree for support as he looked out upon the landscape. He was looking down into a valley, a valley surrounded by the mountains he hadn't noticed he'd been wondering into. But that wasn't why he cocked his head to the side in confusion. No, what he was staring so intensely was the peculiar structure he could see peaking over the trees and mountains. It looked… a bit like Egypt's pyramids, he noted to himself, but not quite. He could tell, even from this far away that it was much smaller. Still, it peaked his interest. He jumped from his branch, landing in a crouch on the forest floor and rose to his feet to set off again.

He was nearly half-way there when he felt it; a prickle on the back of his neck, a National Signature he was not familiar with. He stopped dead in his tracks and, with practiced ease and precision, unsheathed the sword at his waist, keeping still as the trees around him. With all his might, he listened for any hint of a sound, a rustle in the leaves or the crack of a stick to help him pinpoint this domestic Nation's whereabouts.

However, even in all his skilled concentration, he did not have time to react when the _twang_ of a bow reached his ears.

It took him a second to realize what had happened, a second more for the impossible pain to register in his neck and throat. His sword slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground with a metallic _clang_ as his hands went to the arrow that had embedded itself not only into but _through_ his neck. He tried to cry out in pain and rage but all he managed was a sickening gurgle as his mouth filled with blood. Silently, he thanked God that he was a Nation; if he had been human, he would have already been dead. He found that wasn't much comfort in the current situation.

It took him _far_ too long to locate the arrow, his fingers slipping and sliding over blood as he clawed at his throat. He finally managed to grasp and yank it out after several long, painful seconds of struggle and felt no shame whatsoever in allowing himself to fall to the lush earth in agony. He was not given as much time to rest as he would have appreciated, however; the moment his throat began to heal itself, the frightened cries of several men reached his ears. Irritated and in pain as he was, curiosity still got the better of him, and he lifted his head tediously to look to the source of the sound.

Three men stood there, three of the strangest men he had ever seen. The first thing he noticed from his less-than-desirable position on the ground was that these men had very oddly colored skin; a deep brown, almost red, color. The second thing he noticed was that they were very under dressed. All three of them were dressed in nothing but filthy, white cloths tied around their waists, hiding their loins from view. They also wore earrings, _huge_ earrings requiring their lobes to stretch to nearly their shoulders. Spain actually cringed at that; his left ear was pierced when he began his days as a pirate but _that_ was ridiculous. One of them, the leader from the looks of it, was wearing a headdress made of what appeared to be brightly-colored feathers. And all six dark eyes were staring at him in absolute horror.

Spain knew, in the back of his mind, that he should be worried that three human men had just witnessed his very inhuman healing abilities first hand. However, he found he couldn't quite manage it with that less-than warm welcome still so fresh in his mind… and being clutched in his right hand, for that matter.

"Lo me duelo," [That hurt] he said with simplicity. The humans did not react to what he had said, only continued to stare at him in painfully obvious fear.

Tired of having them look down on him, Spain got to his feet. As he rose, the human in the headdress shouted to the others in a language he could not recognize and all three of them turned and began running—as fast as possible from the look of it—in the direction Spain had been heading. He considered catching up to them at a speed only a Nation could achieve purely for the purpose of scaring them, but decided he could stand to be a little more mature than that. With an irritated role of his eyes, he threw the arrow down, watching it shudder as the tip sunk into the dirt before stooping to pick up his sword, slide it back into its sheath and continue on his way, this time at a more human pace, purely because he wanted time to brood on that annoying assault.

He got only about two kilometers at this speed before he heard another _thwang_ of a bow. This time he managed to dodge it, a good thing too as the National Signature he'd stupidly been ignoring had suddenly become a lot more intense, meaning the Nation it belonged to was nearby, most likely the one attacking him.

Cursing, he whirled himself around, drawing his sword again, thinking regretfully of the beloved ax he had left back at the campsite, believing he would not be needing it to just go looking around. He could not see or hear this Nation but he could definitely sense him. He was very close. Also, rather powerful if the intensity of his Signature was any indication. Spain was certain he was still much stronger than whoever it was, but the other Nation currently had the looming prospect of the element of surprise; he had no idea where the other would attack from.

He sensed it just in the nick of time, an attack from behind, as should have been expected, as the other Nation jumped and hurled himself at Spain flipping in midair and lashing out at him with a spear. He ducked and rolled out of the way, barely avoiding the tip of the weapon as he landed in a crouch, his incredibly long hair fanning out behind him like a cape. Spain lunged while the other Nation's back was turned, intending to deal only a minor blow—he still wanted to talk to this Nation—but the other twisted on the balls of his feet at the last moment. And he saw something then that made him falter in his movements.

"¿Qué?"

His moment of hesitation earned him a blow in the gut with the long handle of the spear, causing him to grunt and double over with pain. However his desire to fight this opponent had all but completely diminished and instead of dealing a counter-attack, he dropped his sword and rolled out of the way of another blow.

"_You _are the Nation?" He asked, his voice laced with shock.

Apparently sensing the shift in his attitude, the other nation stopped as well, still holding the spear in a defensive stance and glaring at him but not making any attempts at further attacking.

"B-but… you are a woman!"*

Of all the things he had expected to find out here, a female Nation was not one of them. He had female Nations in the past, sure… but he had never expected to find one with such power. She was obviously no match for him when it came to strength but he would be lying if he said she wasn't at least very powerful. It was completely impossible. Women didn't fight, women were not strong, and women most certainly were _not_ Nations! At least not in this day and era….

She rose from her crouched position on the ground to stand at full height, which Spain could tell even from the ground, was not really that impressive of a move. Her long black hair, slightly mused from their short battle, fell to nearly her hips now and the glare never left her rather defined face. A red-brown hand went to the headdress that had gotten knocked askew when she leapt at him, straightening it over her sleek hair before running down to dust off her… rather immodest dress. (Both of her arms were _entirely_ visible!) Spain thought he should look away from such travesty but… he was transfixed by her brown-eyed gaze. He was used to Nations and women looking at him like that but never Nation-women!

"And you are man," she commented lightly, a hand coming to rest on her hip. "I do not see what this has to do with anything."

Her comment only further confused him. Her voice… her soft famine voice was laced with authority. Apart from royalty, women never spoke to him in this way. Everything about this woman, from her gaze, to her straight posture, to her wide stance radiated confidence. This was wrong on so many levels.

"I… did not realize there _were_ woman Nations…," he stated honestly. He suddenly became very aware of the fact she was looming over him and jumped to his feet. Humans were one thing but he would _not _allow a woman to look down on him. Under _any_ circumstances.

Her cold mask was suddenly laced with confusion.

"Nation?" she repeated. "What is 'Nation'? I am a Civilization as are you."

"But you are a Personification? Of this land and these people."

"Indeed."

"I see…," and then he put on his most charming smile. Why bother fighting? She was a woman after all. This was so much less tiring… also much less fun but he couldn't be picky. "Who might you be, my lady? I would like very much to make you acquaintance."

"You are on my land. You must identify yourself first."

Spain chuckled to himself, lightly. She was stubborn. He liked that.

"Very well. I am the Kingdom of Spain."

"That is your name?"

"That is my title."

She regarded him coldly for a moment longer before she sighed.

"Very well. I am Tenochitlán."

Spain met her gaze blankly for a moment, before he coughed, awkwardly into his gloved fist.

"I… beg your pardon."

"My title is Tenochitlán."

"…please forgive me but I am already certain I will not be able to remember… or pronounce your title."

And he honestly couldn't understand how anyone possibly could.

"You may call me Mexica if it is more suitable."

"Mexica… very well. You may simply call me Spain."

"There will be no need for that," Mexica stated simply and she suddenly raised the spear to rest against Spain's throat in a deadly threat. Spain's eyes flickered down to it momentarily before meeting hers again, not afraid, merely confused.

"I know who you are, Kingdome of Spain," she said harshly. "Your people have made you quit infamous in this land."

Spain offered her a cocky grin.

"I am flattered," he said lightly.

"You are the one they claim this place for? You are the one they shout 'España' over?"

"Indeed I am. It is so nice to know how proud they are of me."

"You think you should have pride over the things you have done?" her tone was so cold he thought he might shiver, not with fear but excitement. This was why he was here; it was all so riveting, looking death straight in the eye, claiming glory for himself and his bosses. He adored it all. And this woman was proving to be oh, so interesting. He grinned at her, licking his lips.

"I posses more power and strength than you could possible imagine, mi corazón. I have conquered more Nations, explored more land, have more people under my control than anyone else in the world. Indeed I am proud. And you too shall soon succumb to my will as will all of this land."

"You are arrogant," she commented, pressing the tip of the spear further into throat. He felt it pierce his skin ever so slightly, a drop of blood running down his neck. Oh how he adored this!

"Perhaps," he said lightly, his hand going behind his back, under his coat to the short knife he had concealed in the back of his belt, "however-" and in one swift motion, he knocked the spear from her hands, brought the knife to her throat and had her backed into a thick tree trunk, trapped between his body and the tree with no way to escape. "I have every right to be…," he breathed into her ear. "And I suggest you are more careful in the future, mi corazón," he added moving his head back to look into her undisturbed face. He had to give her credit here: most people were more than a light frightened when trapped with a weapon held by him to their throat. "You see, where I come from there are serious penalties when a woman raises her hands to a man."

"I do not fear you," she spat.

"I like that," he said with a smile. "But that will change in due time, mi corazón."

"I will not bend to your influence. I will never be conquered by you or by anyone."

So stubborn. So brave. So interesting.

"Oh but you will, Bonita. One way or another, you will belong to me. A pity…," he added his gloved hand moving to hold her chin in order to better look at her, "you possess such beauty. I would hate to destroy such a glorious work of art. However sacrifices must be made."

She bit at his hand and he laughed.

"I do love a woman with attitude," he said, replacing his knife and pushing away from the tree, turning his back on her to retrieve his sword. Once it was back in its sheath, he turned to look at her. She had not moved, apparently believing it was not worth it to fight him at the moment. "This will not be the last time we meet, my lady. My Mexica."

"I am not _yours_," she spat furiously.

"Perhaps not quite yet. But in due time. Adios. I suggest you practice a bit more with that spear. You will need it."

Spain returned to the now perfectly established campsite feeling rather accomplished. He had hummed and whistled and smiled his entire journey back, his mind still reeling with his encounter with that mysterious woman. A female nation, who would have thought? So obstinate and determined, much like him he realized. He simply couldn't wait to encounter her again. She was so very amusing.

However, his good mood faded when he suddenly began sensing Romano again. And saw something that made his stomach drop out of his body.

"¡Señor!"

No, no, no. He most certainly was not seeing this. He was simply tired from the day's progress or perhaps he'd gotten scurvy on the way over…. Romano was an insolent, stubborn, impulsive, little brat at times but even _he_ would not stoop this low. And Spain could not have _possibly_ been that stupid.

But unless he really was hallucinating (and if he was, he hadn't had one this vivid since he'd gotten the Plague) his favorite little colony had just gotten himself into serious trouble. For he was sitting in the tallest tree in the area, on the very top branch, hugging the trunk tightly so as not to fall and scowling down at the men surrounding the base, attempting coax him down.

"¡Señor, he estado en el árbol por horas! ¡Nadia pueden convencer salir abajo!" [sir, he's been up there for hours! No one's been able to convince him to come down!]

"Voy a lo asesinar." [I'm going to kill him.]

"¿S-señor?"

"¡Voy a lo asesinar! Romano!" he shouted the last bit while running to the base of the tree.

Even from all the way down here, Spain saw Romano's eyes widen when he was him, clutching the tree tighter for support.

"H-hola?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Spain screeched at him. Distantly several birds could be seen flying off in the distance.

"Um… you know. Just… hanging out…,"

"South Italy Romano Lovino Vargas, this is single handedly the stupidest thing you have _ever_ done! And you once thought it was a good idea to throw a rock at a sleeping bull! Come down here this instant!"

"No way! I've seen what you're like when you're mad! You'll chop me into little pieces, bastard!"

"Better me than the natives, you moron! What possessed you to stowaway on a ship and follow me?"

Romano hesitated for a moment, his lower lip jutting out in thought.

"I'm waiting!"

"Well… it sure as hell isn't because I'd miss you or anything! It's just that... your house is too big, dammit! I wouldn't be able to find the kitchen or... the bathroom! You wouldn't want me to have another accident would you? And your boss doesn't like me as is so I don't want to stay alone with her! And what if France or Turkey snuck in, huh? I can't fight them on my own, dammit! And France has already tried to do bad sexy things with my brother, what if I'm next? I don't wanna lose my innocence to France, dammit!"

Romano was just rambling now and Spain knew why. He felt his anger quell and his heart soften. Romano had said he'd miss him while he was away... in his own way. He tried to shake that off though. Now was not the time to tell Romano he was cute.

"This is inexcuseable! You disobey me all the time but I never expected you to—LOOK OUT!"

For a loud crack had suddenly broken through the forest, from the branch Romano was perched upon. The bow had snapped under Romano's weight and Romano was suddenly clinging to the treetrunk not just for comfort but for dear life as he shouted in shock and fear at the ground below.

"Romano! Don't let go!"

"Great advice, bastard!"

"Hang on! I'll-" but he didn't have time to come up with a plan. The next moment, Romano had disobeyed him again, allowing his grip to slip and he was falling, screaming all the way. Spain barely had time to possition himself in order to catch him. Fortunately, he managed; Romano's weight forced him off his feet and he ended up landing on Spain's stomach, completely winding him.

A moment of silence followed this peculiar incident as Spain attempted to regain the ability to breath. Then, Romano coughed.

"Nice catch, bastard."

That was the closet to a thank you he was going to get.

"You're welcome," he choked out when Romano got off of him and dusted himself off. "And you're still in trouble," he added sitting up.

"You're not gonna send me back, are you?" those big, brown eyes would be the death of him one day, he knew it.

"Romano, this is dangerous."

"So is Europe!"

Spain had to admit he had a point there.

"Look, Romano, I know you don't want to be lonely in my house but I'd really prefer you not be out here with me. The person you know me is as not the person I am with everyone. I'd like you to not have to see me when I'm working."

"You're a scary bastard, everyone knows that."

"Romano…."

"Oh come on, jerk, we both know you'd miss me too."

"Of course I would but-"

"Please?"

Romano never asked nicely for anything. Spain looked at him, those adorable brown eyes bright and with hope and anticipation.

"I'm going to regret this I just know it…," he sighed, resigning. He was seriously a horrible parent. When was he going to learn to say no to this child?

"Ha! I knew you couldn't live with out me."

"You're to stay in camp at all times," Spain added, getting to his feet, ignoring the very true statement.

"Yeah, yeah."

Spain chose to ignore the helplessly confused looks his men were giving him as he took Romano's hand and lead him to what he thought must be his tent. Female Nations, rambunctious Colonies, half-naked locals… this was going to be a _very _interesting trip.

A/N: Edit: story plans DID change so… I had to make some minor changes to the first chapter. Mainly about our little misogynist's thoughts about Nations of the female type.

And there's the first chapter. Something you should know about me is that it's always wise to read at least the A/N at the end of the chapter as I'll include important information.

*First of all, this is obviously set before it was common knowledge that Hungary was a woman. Spain's still under the impression she has a much bigger dick than he does… and quite frankly so am I. And I honestly didn't take the time to do a ton of research on Spain's relationships with the female Asian countries up until this point as I was busy learning everything I could about the Aztec Empire. Now that I think about it, he probably _was_ aware of them by now but… let's just ignore that for now ^^"

"Mexica" is what some historians use to refer to the Aztec Empire. I'm aware it sounds like some stupid, made up Mary-sue name but it's legit. I figured it was more fitting for how I want the story to go to have this be her common name. And the only reason Spain would have trouble with Tenochitlán is because I would. Tenochitlán was the capital city of the Aztec Empire, essentially the most powerful city in the Empire.

Hernán obviously refers to Hernán Cortes, the actual leader of the Spanish fleet to conquer the Aztecs. And he's probably the only human who will ever speak to Spain through out this entire story.

Romano is there specifically because he's my favorite character, I needed comic relief and he's going to be an adorable plot device. Seriously, he's not needed, I just wanted him ^_^

You may or may not be able to tell from the way Mexica and Spain speak to each other but my goal was to make them speak in a more old fashinoned way. It sort of fell apart when Romano showed up though… it just didn't read right. And if I made them speak how people actually spoke back then it would be incredibly difficult to read. So… yeah. Yay Inconsistancy! :D

And before you ask, yes, I did come up with this story while watching Pocahantas. OMG SPOILERZ as if you didn't see it coming. However it's historically accurate so it has a less happy ending ^_^

And it's one in the morning on a school night hahaha *passes out* If there are any typos that's why.


	2. Chapter 2:She Devil

A/N: That awkward moment when your plans for the story you're writing changes so that previously stated facts are no longer accurate OTL Oh man, that's embarrassing. If you started this story before I made the change, it was her strength that surprised Spain; he didn't expect a female nation to be as powerful as she is. He obviously doesn't know about China *shot*

Chapter summary: Chibimano get into further trouble and Spain becomes fascinated with how often his path seems to cross with one indigenous Nation.

Chapter warnings: mild language and bad Spanish and crude humor in the shape of a parasitic, Amazonian fish.

* * *

><p>If you were to ask Romano outright what he thought of his boss, his answer would be a simple, thoughtless "I hate him," purely on principle. Of course, if you actually knew anything about Romano himself, you'd know he was lying. Romano would never admit it—not even to himself—and would probably knock you out if he even knew you were thinking it, but he really was quite fond of Spain. He just made it a moral issue to never care very much about anyone. Still, even Romano couldn't deny that Spain was at least nice to him. It was funny really, Romano knew that Spain was feared and hated everywhere for being so ruthless and violent but Romano never saw that side of him. The closest Romano had ever come to the receiving end of Spain's infamous temper were situations like yesterday, when he did something very dangerous that scared him, and considering the things the Netherlands had told him, that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. Many of Spain's colonies had never even seen him smile in a way that wasn't sadistic. Romano rarely saw Spain when he wasn't smiling….<p>

Of course Romano rarely thought much about this. It was easier to just convince himself he didn't like Spain, even if the Nation in question was beginning to see through that façade. This gave him the leeway to disobey every order his boss gave him (that and he secretly wanted Spain's full attention and acting out ensured he got it), which was nice considering the orders he'd been issued this morning had left him _insanely_ bored. He had been told to stay in the tent while "boss" was busying himself with meetings/status reports from his men-more likely intimidating and threatening the hell out of them but that was irrelevant. Romano's attention span was unable to handle this. He'd napped, drawn, even gone so far as to practice his Spanish (which he would later deny) and still the bastard hadn't returned. Irritated, he had set off, away from the campsite, once again directly violating his boss's wishes in search of something worthy of his amusement.

He'd hiked a couple of miles and still was in dire need of some entertainment when he felt it, a sort of pull on his National Sense: There was another Nation nearby. Under normal circumstances, he'd flee in an instant, keen on avoiding anyone with such a powerful signature that he couldn't recognize. However, running away would mean returning to the tent to wait in boredom for Spain to return and at the moment he was so desperate for entertainment, he hesitated, weighing his options. He had no idea if this nation was friendly or not. As bored as he was, he doubted he was willing to put himself in danger for something as petty as entertainment. Besides, he was technically still a child; Spain had given him the lecture about Stranger Danger several times. It was best to avoid them when possible.

His brown eyes scanned the area around him, in search of a suitable hiding spot. Sensing the Nation's pace quicken (he apparently hadn't gone unnoticed) he settled for the nearest tree, jumping to a low branch a shimmying up to only about four feet off the ground (He didn't want to be too high if he was spotted and forced to jump down and run. Hiding himself in the thick pines, he squinted at the ground, holding his breath, waiting.

It was only a few moments the Nation allowed their self to be seen. Instantly, Romano felt himself relax; this Nation was a female. Girls were something he could deal with. He was Italian after all. No matter how powerful they were, female Nations were always nice to him. Of course they were typically nicer to his brother but that was beside the point…. Without a second thought, Romano moved the thinner branches behind which he had been hiding aside and called out to her.

"Ciao, bella!"

The Nation who had been critically surveying the area surrounding them, started at his call, her hard gaze turning to one of confusion as she continued to look around her in search of the shout.

"Up here, signorina!"

Her gaze shifted from the landscape around her to the small boy in the tree, her eyes softening when she noticed him smiling brightly from his vantage point.

"Well hello, little one," she said, smiling back at him. "Who might you be?"

"Ciao, piuttosto, I am South Italy. Most call me Romano. My boss sometimes refers to me as 'Niño'," he jumped from his spot here landing "gracefully" in front of her (he actually stumbled and nearly fell, but she continued to smile at him so he assumed he'd done well) continuing to grin brightly at her. "But I do not know what that means."

She chuckled, kneeling in order to be on eye level with him.

"How long have you been here, Romano? I have not seen or heard of you before now."

"My boss is on a conquest in the New World, my lady. I decided to come along; it would be less boring."

Here her face grew confused again, her grin becoming a questioning frown.

"Are you of relation to the one called Spain?"

"He is my boss, my lady."

"I see… what is he like, little one?"

"What is Spain like?" Romano actually considered praising him for a moment. _Only_ a moment. He had appearance to maintain. "Hmm… bastard is the simplest way to put it."

She laughed lightly.

"Such language. You should use cleaner words, my child."

"You are so very pretty," Romano stated, smiling brightly. It was the closet he could provide to an apology.

"Thank you, child," she smiled, shifting to sit cross-legged upon the earth, patting the spot beside her. "Come. Sit here and speak with me for a while. I wish to know you better."

"Of course, signorina." He took the spot she offered, mimicking her position, gazing up at her in delight. She met his smile with one of her own.

"Tell me, Child, what is it that makes Spain so horrible?"

Romano really did have to put some thought into that. What did Netherlands always say about him…?

"Well… he is very strong. He has conquered more Nations in out home than is appreciated by most. He is also a bit overbearing with his faith, I have also heard he is very destructive when angered. And he is rather controlling and abusive of his other colonies.

"How has he managed to gain such power?"

"I am sorry, my lady, but I do not know," from very far away, something pulled at his senses. "But you can ask him. He is headed this way."

She seemed to sense him as well, for she got suddenly to her feet, glaring in the direction of Spain's aura as if he'd be able to sense her anger.

"Romano!"

"Wow, that was fast even for him."

The words had barely left his mouth before a gloved hand grabbed onto his arm, pulling him to his feet, prompting a shout of surprise from the child as his eyes suddenly met those of his care taker—spastically worried at the moment.

"Romano! Roma, are you okay? Did she hurt you? What happened?"

"You're hurting me, bastard!"

Spain let go of him as if he'd been burned.

"Romano, how did you get out here?"

"I walked."

"You… Romano! I told you to stay at the campsite!"

"It is not my _my_ fault! It was boring there!"

"That is irrelevant! I told you—!" he cut himself off, glancing at Mexica as if noticing her for the first time where she stood, still glaring at him. He hadn't thought to grab a weapon once he had noticed Romano missing… however she did not appear to be armed either. He was certain he had the upper hand if it came down to a battle in this situation. Still… he would rather avoid it if possible.

"Romano…," he began, his eyes never leaving Mexica's cold, hateful gaze, "¿Qué te dijo?" [what did she say to you?]

"Why are you speaking Spanish, bastard?"

"¡Me responde! En Español." [Answer me! In Spanish]

Romano sighed but grudgingly responded.

"Solo preguntaba de tú." [she only asked me about you.]

"¿Y qué hablaste?" [And what did you say?]

"Dije que tú eras un bastardo." [I said you are a bastard]

"¿Es este solo?" [is that it?]

"Dijé que eres fuerte y amas dios mas de es saludable." [I said you are strong and love god more than is healthy]

"…¿Es la verdad?" […really?]

Romano nodded, regarding Spain as if he were insane. He probably believed he was, actually….

"Ah, Gracias, Roma." He turned to smile at him, his concentration melting away to the usual, irritatingly cheerful disposition he used for Romano. "Y muy bien on your Spanish, though you should have said 'es' rather than 'eras'."

"Trust me, I was right the first time."(1)

Spain chose to ignore this jibe in favor of turning back to Mexica, his smile becoming slightly more manic.

"Using a child to gain information on me… very clever, Querida. It is unfortunate how truly ignorant of my methods he is. He tends to lose himself when in the presence of a…." Spain paused to run his gaze over Mexica taking in again her rather improper attire, "lady."

"Do not speak of me as if I am not present, bastard!"

Again, Spain ignored his lackey's calls for attention, still looking at Mexica, his attention now on her defensive stance.

"I make it a matter of principle never to raise my sword in front of the child except in his defense. If you do not wish to harm him, you nee not worry now."

"I have no trust for you," Mexica stated, her stance remaining as poised as ever.

"A wise decision," Spain said, smiling genuinely. "I give you my word. I will do no harm."

"I know not the value of your word."

Spain simply shrugged.

"Do as you wish. We must take our leave as is."

"I do not wish to leave yet, bastard," Romano stated, crossing his arms and giving his boss his signature pout. It almost worked. Almost.

"That is unfortunate," said Spain, his resolve stronger now than usual given his current irritation with the child. "We must leave _now, _Romano."

"But there is nothing else of interest out here!"

"Romano, please cease the whining. You know how irritating I find."

"Spa-_ain_,"

"Stop it, please."

"_Spa-ian!" _

"Romano."

"_I do not want to leave yet!" _

"Now you are only doing it because you wish to antagonize me!"

A giggle interrupted the exchange. Spain, for a moment confused as to where it came from, glanced in the direction of it. Of course it had to be Mexica and… Spain could only stare. He realized this was the first time he had seen her smile. It was an amazing the profound difference this made in her features. She looked relatively harmless and, rather beautiful like this, attempting to hide a smile behind her hand as she stifled her laugh. It really was a shame they were enemies, Spain thought with a sigh; he was certain this woman could be rather enjoyable if she did not hold such loathing for him.

"There are not nearly enough children running around out here," She said, kneeling to look Romano in the eyes. "I have long wished for a child in my life."

Romano beamed at her.

"You are both so lovely when you smile," said Spain, placing a hand on Romano's shoulder, still a bit worried about the strange Nation's presence. "Perhaps one day you will even direct one at me, Niño?"

"Do not place a bet on that."

"Ay, Roma is so uncute!"

"Shut up!" Romano screamed, throwing a small fist at Spain's thigh. Spain only eyed him in mild irritation.

"You see, Querida? He has no respect for his elders."

She was regarding him wearily now, clearly desperate to be rid of him. Spain could not help but laugh at her irritation.

"We will take our leave now. Come, Romano."

"But I—hey! Let go of me, bastard!"

Spain knew Romano well enough to know he would run of if Spain did not keep a firm grasp on his hand. Sure enough, the moment Spain's fingers closed around Romano's hand, the younger began to struggle, doing all he could to rip his hand from Spain's grip. It was really just for show; Romano knew he was no where near strong enough to actually throw Spain off of him.

"If you do not settle down, you will not receive supper."

This was for show as well; Spain did not have the heart to truly deprive Romano of food, and even if he did, he didn't have the patience to deal with the whining that would ensue. Romano was aware of this and instead of settling down, attempting to kick Spain in the shins. Spain prevented this by grabbing his other hand and lifting him off the ground. Watching him continue to kick and struggle.

"I would like to introduce you to the true Romano, Querida," He said, smiling over his shoulder at the indigenous Nation. "I am going to hold you here until you settle down," he added to the struggling child.

"Your arms will get tired!"

"As will yours."

"Perhaps this is his reaction to you." Mexica suggested, coolly.

Spain took his eyes off the enraged, little boy for a moment to glance at her. Her cold, hateful glare was in place again.

"You are determined to hate me."

"Is that so wrong?"

Romano chose this moment to switch tactics to going limp. This _did_ make him harder to hold onto; Spain nearly lost his grip on Romano's hands.

"I suppose not. It is a shame though; we are not so different you and I. You are determined to focus on how we are different rather than see how we are similar. You may find there is much about you I am to relate to. Are you quite finished?" Spain added to Romano.

"B-bastard…," Romano muttered half-heartedly.

Spain smiled at him.

"Aww, Romano is so cute when he listens to me."

"Shut up! My arms are just sore. And you are more fun when you are not angry with me!"

Spain just laughed at him, shifting the boy to cradle him in a more comfortable position for both of them against his hip.

"And people say that I am a bad parent," he said winking at Mexica.

"You are, bastard," Romano muttered with a pout, though ruining the affect by resting his head on Spain's shoulder.

"Shh!"

You are an odd pair," Mexica commented, her glare becoming slightly less hateful.

We hear that often." Spain stated, smiling brightly.

Mexica was hesitating, thinking it looked like. Spain thought she may have wanted to say something.

"Something on your mind, Querida?"

"You care deeply for him?"

"You sound surprised."

"You do not seem the caring type."

Spain clicked his tongue, shaking his head at her.

"So quick to judge. Though it is understandable, I suppose; most would not assume someone like myself enjoys a quiet evening with an unruly child. But then I could say the same of you: my first impression of you was not motherly."

"Mothers must be strong."

"I suppose so."

"Where is it you have come from?" she asked suddenly. "My people have been mistaking yours for gods. They say you come on strange vessels, rise from out of the sea. That cannot be true, am I correct?"

Spain chuckled. "No, my lady, we do not come from the sea. We are from…," he fumbled at his belt, attempting to remove his map one-handed, "here."

He let the map roll open in his hand as he held it in front of her.

"Europe; the northern most part on the left. Until recently, we believed the world to look like this. It is actually much bigger."

"Well of course, the world would not fit on such a small piece of parchment."

Spain laughed again.

"No, no, you misunderstand me. I mean, if we were to fly very high into the sky and look at the world from above and draw what we saw, we believed this is what the outcome would be. But that is not the case."

Mexica took the map in her own hands, staring at it, her fascination so evident she forgot to look hatefully at him.

"You may keep that if you wish. It is not up to date, nor is it very useful to me out here."

"I did not know there was so much to this world…."

"Nor did we."

"Where is this place?"

"Across the sea, my lady. There is no edge to the world; we are simply too far apart to see. The world is round."

"Round?"

"Indeed. Like a sphere."

"How is it we do not fall off?"

"The hand of God holds us up."

"That is not what Greece told me," Romano chimed in.

"Hush… there is much you do not know about this world, Querida."

"Do not talk down to me," her glare was back in place now.

"I am merely stating a fact. There is much you do not know. There is much _I_ do not know. If you cooperate, you could learn from me."

"I could say the same of you."

Spain raised his eyebrows at her.

"Do not look down your nose at me, white man," she spat. Spain winced at the insult. "There is so much condescension in you. It is clear there is much you do not understand about the world around you."

Spain gave a soft chuckle, before turning his back on her.

"Believe what you wish, señorita. That will not be a luxury of yours for much longer. Hasta luego, Bonita."

"Ciao, Bella," Romano said watching her over Spain's shoulder. "I'll come speak to you again soon!"

"You will do no such thing," Spain scolded.

"_Spa-ain._"

"Romano!"

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><p>"Señor, con respecto, no pienso que esta sea apropiado. Los Reyes me piden explorar esta tierra. No lo puedo si estoy mirando un niño." [sir, with all due respect, I don't think this is appropriate. The king and queen asked me to explore this land. I can't do it if I'm watching a child.]<p>

"Lo siento, Hernán. Pero parte de trabajando con mi es trabajando con mi niño. Y cuando te pido mirarlo, tienes que mirarlo. A todo el tiempo. O correré algún lugar. O romperé algo." [I'm sorry, Hernán. But part of working with me is working with my child. And when I ask you to watch him, you have to watch him. All the time. Or he'll run off someplace. Or break something.]

"¡Señor, soy un explorador, no un niñera!" [Sir, I'm an Explorer, not a baby-sitter!]

"Lo siento, es parte del trabajo." [sorry, it's part of the job.]

"¿Cómo es cuidado de niños, parte de conquistando un mundo nueva? Y un niño muy mal educado, también. Pensaba que Piases sería disciplinado!" [how is child care part of conquering the new World? And a poorly behaved child at that. I thought countries were well disciplined.]

"Variamos en personalidad tanto como los humanos. Y yo apreciaría no juzgando mi raza en tiempo así corto." [We vary in personality as much as humans do. And I would apréciate it if you would not Judie my race in such a short amount of time.]

Hernán Cortes exhaled deeply to calm himself.

"Lo siento, era perjuicio, pero-" [I apologize. That was prejudiced. But-]

"¡Yo soy el líder aquí! ¡Harás como dijo! No olvidas que hayas eliminado de esta misión. Si quieras tu nombre en mi historia, escúchame. ¿Es esta claro?" [I am in charge here! You will do as I say! Don't forget that you were eliminated from this mission. If you want your name in my history, listen to me. Is that understood?]

Spain was struck vaguely by how odd it was to see a thirty-year-old man cower at the infamous temper of a boy of only nineteen, particularly when said boy could not morally harm the man in anyway. Regardless, this was important for the man to understand.

"Es vital tú entiendes: es mas seguro por él estar con tú que yo. Los personas que te encuentras con no pueden tomar su vida. Los Países que me encuentro pueden." [It's important that you understand: It's safer for him to be with you than me. The people you meet with cannot take his life. The Nations I meet with can.]

Hernán sighed.

"Entiendo, Señor… pero… es muy difícil hacer frente." [I understand, sir… but… he is very difficult to deal with.]

"Es bastante simple, en realidad," [he's rather simple, really.] Spain said, glancing down at the little boy with whom be was holding hands, gazing disinterestedly at the trees around them. "Por el mas parte, se pondrá en peligro cuando no piensa que él está poniendo suficiente atención. Si no puedas interactuar directamente, tócalo por lo saber no olivadas de lo. Es mas facial de sostener su mano como lo estoy ahora. Si puedas buscar un mujer dispuesta mirarlo para ti, toma el oferta porque él es muy mas bien educado cuando con mujeres, confía en mí. Si estás estando desobediente, amenaza me informar. Si absolutamente no te escucha, lo soborna con comida." [For the most part, he gets himself into trouble when he doesn't think he is getting enough attention. If you can't interact with him directly, Couch him in some way so he knows you have not forgotten him. It's easiest to hold his hand like I am now. If you're able to find a woman willing to look alter him, take the offer because he is much better behaved when with women, trust me. If he is being disobedient, threaten to tell me. If he absolutely will not listen to you, bribe him with food.]

"Señor…. estamos en las raciones…." [sir… we're on rations….]

"Es bien, dase míos. No necesito comer." [it's fine, give him mine. I don't need to eat.]

"Pero-" [but-]

Spain cut him off with a stern look.

"…sí, señor." [yes, sir]

"Bien. Yo trataré-" [Good. I will try-] his voice faltered into a grunt as he bent down to lift the troublesome child in question of the ground and held him close, "lo me tomar con mucho del tiempo. Pero, cuando estoy encentrando con los países, tengo que lo salir con tú. ¿Entiendas?" [To take him with me as often as possible. But when I am meeting with Nations, I have to like him with you. Understand?]

"Si, Señor." [yes, sir]

"Gracias… ahora…alguien necesita un siesta." [Thank you… now… somebody needs a nap.]

"Bastard, I'm not tired," Romano muttered, forgetting he always pretended not to understand Spanish and rubbing his face.

"I meant me," Spain said, chuckling softly and rubbing Romano's back affectionately. "But you are welcome to join me."

"Chigi…," Romano muttered resting his head on Spain's shoulder.

"No me despiertas excepto en el caso de una tragedia. Confía en mí. Buena tarde, Hernán." [Do not wake me except in the case of an emergency. Trust me. Good day, Herán.]

"Buena tarde, Señor." [good afternoon, sir]

As he turned and walked in the direction of his tent, Spain whispered to the sleepy micro-nation.

"Will you do something for me?"

"Mmm… no."

"When I leave you with Señor Cortes, can you please try to behave yourself, just a little," Spain asked, ignoring the child's comment. "It is not the same as being rude to another Nation; he is one of my people and it would mean very much to me if you would at least _attempt_ to be respectful."

"But he is a human," Romano complained. "And not even one of mine. What authority does he have over me?"

"Please, Romano? You would be making my life much, much easier."

"What tactic is this you are using to convince me?"

"Romano…."

A moment of silence followed as they walked, lasting so long Spain thought Romano had succumbed to his tiredness and fallen asleep.

"Alright, alright," Romano muttered. "I'll try to be good. But I am not going to promise anything."

Spain sighed, content with the answer.

"Thank you, Roma."

"Yeah, yeah… bastard."

Spain chuckled.

"Roma is so cute when he is tired."

Romano did not respond to this. Spain decided to say no more to him, silently carrying him to his tent and lying down in his cot, the child asleep on his chest. Briefly, he smiled down at the little Terror, before closing his eyes and hoping to relax for only a moment.

* * *

><p>"Are you not capable of bathing alone?" Romano stormed, attempting once again to make his care-takers life more difficult.<p>

"You are the one not capable. You proved yesterday that I cannot leave you on your own. You will stay with me at all times unless it is impossible for me to take you along. Which I am sure is what you were intending, sí?"

"I do not want to watch you bathe!"

"You do not have to. You may wait by the shore if it is easiest on you."

"That is not what I mean!"

"Oh hush. You did this to yourself. Here, if I remember correctly, it was over here… ah! Perfect."

The gentle clopping of the horse's hooves came to a stop as Spain tightened his grip on the reins, forcing the horse to a stop where the trees thinned enough to reveal the slow moving river he had come across the previous day.

"We had to hike all the way out here because…?"

"Because we can't risk anyone coming across me in a situation like this," Spain said lightly, jumping down from the horse, taking the reins and leading the beast closer to the water's edge. "_Stay on the horse," _he added, tying the reins to a nearby tree. "I will be right back. If I am forced to chase you through this godforsaken place without my clothes on, the consequences will be very sever."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Gracias," he muttered, slipping his coat off and kneeling to undo his boots.

"Oh, Roma, can you check my bag for me, please?"

"For what?"

"There should be a bunch of white berries in there. I am unable to recall if I grabbed them or not."

Romano opened the sack Spain had told him to carry when he had forced the small boy onto the horse back at the campsite.

"Enough to feed the entire fleet."

"They are poisonous to humans, actually," said Spain plainly, pulling off his gloves and shirt. "But thank you."

"Why is it that you put these things on your face, anyway? Is it not uncomfortable?"

"A bit. But it is a necessary thing."

"Must you strip in front of me?"

"If it bothers you so, do not look."

Romano groaned and covered his eyes with his hands, pouting. Spain chuckled lightly, removing the last of his clothing.

"So why are these berries necessary?"

"Well," Spain began, shivering slightly as he wadded into the water and removed the ribbon he used to secure his hair, allowing his curls to fall over his shoulders. "People have more respect for those with lighter skin. And it is how most of my people look."

"Why does that matter?"

"You will understand when you are older."

"You do not know yourself, do you?"

Spain ignored him in favor of moving deeper and pulling his head beneath the water's surface, scrubbing his face to clear it of the face paint.

"Ah…," he sighed, resurfacing.

"You may want to hurry it along there, stupid," Romano commented, glancing over his shoulder.

"Oh, hush, Romano and give me my moment of peace."

Romano turned back to look at his boss (apparently feeling it was okay as Spain was far enough out for only his head and shoulders to be visible from the bank), one eyebrow raised in irritation.

"You are completely oblivious…."

Spain cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"What are you talking about, Niño?"

Romano rolled his eyes, with an aggravated sigh.

"If you had the ability to take notice of anything that is not directly in front of you, you would know we will not be alone for much longer."

"WHAT?"

He had spent the last two months on a ship, most of the last two days exploring and sensing for other nations in this strange place and had not been incredibly successful in sleeping the last two nights as he was sharing a cot with Romano—a proud bedhog. At this point, he had been so preoccupied with having only a moment to unwind, he had completely forgotten he should be paying attention to his surroundings in a place like this. Now that he refocused on the area around him, he realized Romano was right: someone else was approaching them, someone whose aura he thought he recognized….

"Is that our new friend?" Romano asked.

"¡Mierda!" Spain inhaled deeply, and pulled his head underwater, swimming as quickly as he could beneath the surface away from the bank, not resurfacing until he considered himself well hidden behind a boulder on the opposite side of the creek.

"Am I going to act this pathetically when I become an adult?" Romano called from the bank.

"What say you, little—WAH!"

The voice warned him of her arrival but that didn't stop him from jumping when he heard her scream. That was an odd sound, he thought.

"What troubles you, my lady?" Spain heard Romano ask sweetly.

"Imbecile!"

A moment of silence followed as Spain attempted to understand what she was talking about.

"Was that comment directed at me or the child?" he called from behind his hiding place.

"Idiot! Come make yourself useful and help me slay this monster that had your child!"

"Romano, I cannot see you. What monster has you?"

"I see no monster."

"This beast that you sit upon! How can you accept this so calmly?"

"Romano!" Spain shouted. "I told you to say on the horse!"

"I _am_ on the horse, bastard!"

"Horse? What is Horse?"

Spain could only float in his hiding place, his confusion withstanding all else. Who in this world didn't know what a horse was?

"Are there not creatures like this out here, my lady?" Romano asked. A moment of silence followed in which Spain could only assume she was shaking her head. "This is a horse, my lady. They make good companions back in Europe and are very good helpers to humans as means of transportation. The bastard has named this one Alejandra. He pretends not to be, but he is actually rather fond of her."

"I do appreciate her presence more than that of many of the humans I know…," Spain muttered, rubbing his face.

Another moment of silence followed in which Spain continued to splash the water over his arms and chest before Mexica called, "Why are you hiding behind that rock?"

"This is a rather undignified way to be happened upon, my lady," was his crass response.

"Are all men from the sea this ashamed of their bodies?"

Spain wasn't entirely sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

"I have no shame to speak of!" he stated with indignation, splashing as he pushed himself a fraction closer to peering around his hiding place. "The child will confirm that fact."

"Under other circumstances I would say this is true," Romano called spitefully, "but given you just had me check to ensure you had a million little white berries with you, I will have to disagree with you."

"Oh, hush, Romano," it never ceased to amaze Spain how quickly the boy could irritate him.

"White berries?" Mexica repeated with interest.

"He uses them—"

"Romano!" Spain cut him off sharply. We do not discuss that, especially in front of the savages!"

"Savages?"

The word was repeated lightly, almost a teasing nature in her questioning tone, though Spain was sure if he looked out past his rock, he would receive one of those disturbing smiles he was famous for.

"You heard me correctly," Spain said strongly.

"I find it funny to be so insulted by a man cowering in a river because he does not want a woman to see his body."

"I mean no disrespect, my lady," he began condescendingly, "but I doubt you would be aware of the standards of a civilized society such as the one we emerge from."

"You are so certain?"

"Again, I mean no disrespect," but of course, he did, "but where I am from, not even a prostitute would be seen in the streets dressed as you are."

"Your condescension and hypocrisy never cease to impress me. This coming from the man who yesterday claimed_ I _was quick to judge." Spain heard a huff of indignation from over the splashes of the water. "I will take my leave now… however, you may want to choose a different bathing spot in the future."

"I was certain your land was much farther north than this," Spain called back, not allowing his confusion to be heard in his voice.

"It is. But that water you are in… it is home to a parasitic fish that feeds on blood. And on the rare occasion that it attacks humans, it does so by embedding itself inside men's penises."

Spain, understandably, considered himself to be a very strong and relatively well composed man. However, upon hearing this information, all men that retained even a little bit of sanity would be… mildly disturbed, as he was. Though slightly embarrassing in the grand scheme of things, he felt it was perfectly reasonable to shriek as he did and scuttle to push himself—his lower body in particular—out from the water, scrambling to secure himself to the uneven, rough surface of the boulder behind which he was still attempting to hide himself from the native Empire. He was not the only one troubled by this tidbit of information; he was certain, even from this distance he heard Romano gasp in shock and disgust… even over what sounded suspiciously like amused laughter from the other occupant of the area.

"Obviously, this fish would not be able to _kill_ you… but I am not sure how long you would be forced to live with it. Human men have to choose between castration and death when they are attacked by this monster. I wonder… what would _you_ chose, my ruthless invader?"

Spain, caught in what may very well have been the most compromising position of his life, could only stare down at the water he now refused to touch, his toes dipping lightly into the surface as he clung to the boulder behind him, attempting to avoid returning to the demon water.

"I would great appreciate it if you left now…," was all he could bring himself to say.

Mexica laughed at him again.

"As you wish. However, I can promise this will not be the last time out paths cross. Enjoy your evening."

Romano's laughter at the current situation was Spain's only hint that the she-devil had taken her leave.

"Romano, you will be silent this instant!" Spain shouted, not seeing any humor in this situation to speak off.

"I will do no such thing!" he shrieked, still giggling.

"Ay! Hush now and close your eyes! I am getting out…."

"Good idea. We would not want any harm to come to—"

"I do not care what your euphemism is; you are not to use it!"

"France and Prussia would disown you!"

"Romano!"

"Ha ha!"

* * *

><p>AN: *peeks head out from behind wall*

A FILLER CHAPTER?

*dodges flying projectiles*

I'm sorry! It was necessary to move the story along. They have to get to know her before the interesting stuff can happen, right? And let's face it, the thought of Spain—or anyone—being told the water they're bathing in is home to the Vampire Fish is pretty funny… unless of course you've actually been attacked by that thing *shudder*

I'd like to apologize for the notoriously slow updates. I'm attempting to graduate high school and not kill myself in the process. It's not the best excuse in the world but I have some emotional problems that can make doing things—even things I enjoy—very difficult. I try to get a chapter out at least once a month but it hasn't been happening recently. I accomplish what I can.

Some stuff you should know about the sixth sense thing: It's my head!canon that all nations have the ability to sense one another when they are in a decent proximity to each other, however, the more powerful a Nation is, the further away they can be sensed. It's something of drawback of being incredibly powerful and it gives weaker Nations a bigger heads up to decide what they should do. Every Nation has a distinct "aura" if you will and if one Nation is around a Nation a lot of the time, they'll be able to tell who it is that their sensing rather than just knowing it's a Nation. When one Nation is a colony of another Nation or at all related to their empire, the weaker Nations National Signature gets sort of… infused with Traces of the more powerful Nation's. That's how Mexica knew Romano was under Spain's control; she remembered his and sensed it in him. Also, the more familiar a Nation is with another, the further away they are able to sense each other, which is why Romano felt Spain before Mexica did. Plus, he's part of Spain's empire so a piece of him is always sensing Spain and vice versa, which is why Spain didn't immediately jump to the conclusion that Romano was a stowaway. They can always tell when another Nation crosses the border into their land. *inhales deeply*

I'm a fucking nerd. I think about these things. Understanding these things is an important aspect of the story.

You have no idea how long it took me to type that conversation in Spanish. Seven semesters is NOTHING. And can I just say, it's very odd to have Hernán Cortes come up in Spanish class while you're writing about him insist he isn't a baby sitter. Don't let this story fool you: he was actually one of the most ruthless explorers to be sent over by the Spanish Empire. Spain's comment on how he was meant to be pulled from the mission refers to the fact that King Ferdinand was planning on aborting this mission to the New World all together. Cortes got wind of this and sped up their departure so the fleet would _conveniently_ miss the message telling them it was a no go. Well played sir.

(1) For those of you who don't speak Spanish, that was basically Romano being disrespectful. He used the familiar "you" form of the verb rather than the formal, which is a common mistake among people who are learning but Romano made it clear he just wanted to be rude when he told Spain he had it right when he used the wrong verb form. At least that was my attempt based on my novice understanding of the language xD


	3. Author's Note-sorry

I apologize for doing this. I know how annoying it is when authors take space out of the story to talk about their personal lives but I feel you all deserve to know where in the world I've been.

Let me start at the beginning: I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder. Obviously, this is a mental illness that makes it very difficult for me to feel happy or even content with the events of my life, and makes me blow negative things far out of proportion. I've tired to kill myself multiple times since my last updates and I've even landed myself in the psych ward twice. To make matters worse, my girlfriend decided it would be a good idea to write me a Dear John letter while I was in the hospital the first time and end our relationship of nearly a year. On top of that, she stole a lot of friends from me when she began telling them I had abused her through out or relationship, which is a blatant lie. She blew things out of proportion as well: every time I was slightly upset she assumed I was going to go home and kill or cut myself. Every time we had a disagreement, she assumed I hated her. She took my consolations that she was indeed helping me through my illness as threats of suicide if she left me. Little did I know she was lying when she told me she loved me and making MY mental illness all about her. I don't know if any of you follow Hetalia Diaries on Tumblr, but the admin is who I'm talking about. You'll seen a decent amount of her nonsense if you scroll through the pages. Most of her telling me to leave her alone were times when I was quite literally begging her to help me through a low point. I'm never going to understand her ability to look someone desperate for help in the eye and tell them to go away but I guess there are heartless people in this world.

But enough about all of that. The point I'm trying to make is that I have had an unbelievable amount on my plate for many months now. I lost my home, my job, and someone I thought cared about me over the course of four weeks and I just haven't had it in me to sit down and write about the happy adventures of Nations. But I want to let you all know that I AM starting to get better. We've found the right medications and I'm starting to feel much more like my old self. I AM still planning on finishing these stories, I've even began a few new stories that I plan on posting and I think you all will really enjoy (ADD much?) But as of now, I'm still recovering. I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting so long but my real life got the better of me. What can I say? Sometimes there's as much drama in reality as the stories here online.

I thank you all for being so very patient and loyal to the story. I'll have the new chapters out as soon as I can. Thank you again. I love you all so very much.

-Aly


	4. Chapter 3: A New Target

A/N: Look I actually updated :D It's short and it sucks but it's an update nonetheless.

Chapter warnings: Violence and language.

"Will you hurry up, moron? I want to take my siesta!"

Spain sighed, pulling his white shirt over his head and shaking out his still-wet hair.

"Patience is a virture, Corazon."

"Well, let us make 'hurry the fuck up' a virtue and get moving!"

Spain watched his reflection's eyes roll in the water as he rubbed the crushed berries into his skin.

"Language, Romano," he chastised lightly. Not that the little headache would listen.

Romano simply groaned in irritation and crossed his arms as the horse he sat upon kicked.

"That remains me," said Antonio, straightening up and putting on his coat. "There are many bugs out here so be careful of the horses. Make sure you do not stand behind them least you be kicked."

"I know that bastard, I am not an idiot!"

"Language, Romano," Antonio repeated, pulling on his white gloves.

Romano only glared at him.

"Alright," he said picking up his ax and slinging it over his shoulder. "Are you ready to go, Romano?"

"I have been ready for ages, moron," said Romano, begrudgingly. Antonio rolled his eyes again. Really, Romano could be such a pain in the neck.

"Alright, Let us go," said Antonio, climbing onto the horse's back behind Lovino and taking the reins. Without another word, Antonio dug his heels into his horse's sides and Alejandra set off at a trot through the thick trees. They rode for several miles peacefully before it happened.

"Alejandra… qué es?" [what is it?]

For Alejandra had just come to a sudden stop, whinnying quietly, as if frightened. Antonio looked around the forest, unable to see or sense anything that could have startled his horse. "Nada es aquí," [Nothing is here] Antonio muttered, stroking the horse's head lightly. "Todo es bien. [Everything is fine]

But Alejandra suddenly reared up on her hind legs, Sending Antonio and Romano sprawling to the ground with cries of shock.

"What in the…?"

Antonio's question was answered before he could finish it. From out of the trees, slithered the most enormous snake Antonio had ever seen, pale yellow with jet black spots, massive mouth revealing colossal fangs as it reared itself up in front of the horse. The green eyes widened in fear as Romano's scream rent the air and Alejandra reared again, kicking at the snake, forcing its enormous body back a few feet.

"Oh no," said Antonio, watching in horror as the snake lunged at his horse. So preoccupied was he with the scene before him, he didn't not notice the thing coming up from behind him.

A shrill shriek echoed from behind them as the fierce Nation approached, wielding her spear topped with obsidian, striking the snake with all the might she had.

"Mexica!" Spain shouted in surprise. How long had she been following them?

Mexica ignored his cry as she eyed the snake, glaring at it with venom. Without warning, she lunged and before Spain could comprehend what had happened, the enormous snake lay dead on the ground, its head several feet from its body.

"Wow…," said Romano, staring at the female Nation in awe. Spain did not have time to be impressed: his horse was still rearing and kicking in fear.

"Alejandra!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and moving to stand in front of the horse with his hands outstretched to her.

"Está bien. Está ido!" [It's okay. It's gone!]

The horse ignored her owner, still rearing in fright at the sight of the dead snake.

"Alejandra!" He said reaching up ant stroking her face in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"Shh… está bien…," Spain said, scratching his horse's nose. She whinnied slightly, trying to pull away from Spain's touch.

"Well, that was interesting," said Romano, getting to his feet and dusting himself off.

"Hush," said Spain, grabbing his horse's reins and holding her in place as Mexica moved to pat Romano on the head.

"Please do not touch my henchman," Spain said, irritably. He didn't know why but Mexica made him feel very protective of Romano. Perhaps it was because he simply didn't trust her but something about the way she acted around Romano seemed off. What was it…?

"I do not mind, my lady," said Romano with a winning smile. Spain rolled his eyes.

"You are a sweet child," she simpered, kneeling to reach Romano's eye level. "You are welcome, by the way," she added, throwing a cold look over her shoulder at Spain.

"I had things under control," said Spain, crossing his arms, stubbornly.

"It looked that way," she said sarcastically. Spain's eye twitched in irritation. "Are you alright, my little one?" she added to Romano.

"Sì! I am not freightened of snakes. Not even ones as enormous as that one!"

"Romano, no leventa detrás la Caballa," [Do not stand behind the horse] Spain reminded, impatiently.

Romano sent a glare at him before moving to the side to get out of the horse's range of kicks.

"You are a brave boy," Mexica simpered. "I could just eat you up. You are simply—"

Spain jumped at Romano's scream, wincing in sympathy as he watched.

"That looked painful," said Spain, matter-of-factly . For Alejandra had just bucked, likely intent on killing an irksome bug of some sort, her hind, left hoof connecting with Mexica's head. A sickening crack echoed through the forest as Mexica fell, face first, the ground, her skull dented grossly, blood pooling around her, hair matting with to her scalp.

"Wow," said Spain, creeping over for a closer look. "Are you not glad I told you to move?" he added to Romano.

"Is… is she dead?" Romano asked, his voice trembling with terror, looking anywhere but the bloody woman before him.

"Of course not," said Spain, stepping over the unconscious body. "That could only have killed a human."

He spared the bleeding Nation one final glance.

"Oh well. Romano, let us go."

"We cannot just leave her here!" Romano shouted, outraged.

"And why not?" said Spain, turning back to the horse. "She will be fine."

"She just saved your horse!"

"I had it under control!"

Romano raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Do not look at me like that!" Spain demanded.

The look on Romano's face did not change.

"Alright, alright, good lord."

Begrudgingly, Spain moved over to the unconscious body, lifting Mexica in his arms and sprawling her across the saddle of his horse.

"Hold my hand," Spain said monotonously, extending the hand not holding the reins of the horse. Romano looked up, meeting his emotionless face with a glare.

"Now," he said simply. Resigned, Romano took the offered hand.

"Do you know where you're going?" Romano asked.

"Generally. It is in this direction," Spain said beginning to walk.

Romano sighed and rolled his eyes, following.

They walked in silence, save for the gentle clip-clopping of the horse's hooves on the forest floor giving Spain time to reflect on the disaster this trip was turning out to be. Just his luck; this was meant to be a grand adventure, a voyage into a world unknown and a conquering of new lands and nations to add to his collection of colonies. Instead, it had become nothing more than one baby-sitting job after another, first with a Romano the stowaway, then with the ignorant, still-unconscious nation on his horse. A sigh left his lips as these thoughts swirled themselves around in his head. The trip was still young, he reminded himself. He still had all the time in the world to turn things around.

A blood stain appeared on the ground below his feet.

"It is there," he said, looking up from the spot he had been shot days ago to the strange monuments in the valley below.

"Wow… interesting architecture," said Romano in awe.

"Primitive, you mean."

"We do not know that. It is wrong to assume because they are different from us, they are primitive."

Spain raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"You sound like the father."

"Priests are wise men."

"Indeed."

A gentle moan interrupted the flow of the conversation, causing both Nations to look up at the horse for the source of the sound. Mexica was stirring.

"What… on earth have you done to me?" she said in a weak voice, muffled from her position against the horse's neck.

"Use caution, that kick would have killed a human," said Spain, monotously.

"Kick?"

"From Alejandra, the horse," he explained. "She got you in the head."

Mexica lifted the head in question and started when she saw where she was, her brown eyes widening in shock at her position upon a beast she had never before encountered.

"Where have you taken me?" she asked suddenly, outraged.

"See for yourself, my lady," said Spain pointing in the direction of her home. "I had meant to assist you."

"Assist me? You attacked me!" She xclaimed outraged.

"Oh, when I attack you, My lady, there will be no mistake," said Spain, cold as ice. "You were at fault for standing behind an agitated horse. That is not to be done in the best of conditions, let alone when you are in air swarming with insects."

If looks could kill, Spain would have been murdered several times over by the glare she shot him. He remained unfazed, however, and simply offered a hand to help the enraged nation down.

"You seem well enough to walk the rest of the way."

She ignored both his remark and his offered hand, in favor of attempting to get down on her own. So unfamiliar was the situation to her, unfortunately, she fumbled, lost her balance on the saddle and would have fallen to the ground if not for Spain's quick reflexes. He managed to catch her on the way down and break her fall.

"Are you alright?"

"I am not made of glass," Mexica said, not moving to escape his grasp.

"No… more like steel." Spain wasn't sure what prompted him to say it. Perhaps he was still in awe at how powerful she was for a female nation? Yes… that made sense.

Awkwardly, Spain moved to set her down and she shoved away from him the moment her feet were back on the ground, taking several steps away from him.

"You are welcome," he said sarcastically.

"I did not ask for your help."

"I did not ask for yours."

As they stood glaring daggers at each other, Romano shook his head in exasperation.

"You are both acting like children."

A low chuckle left the Spaniard's lips as he looked down at his henchman in amusement.

"Come, Romano," said Spain, motioning for the boy to follow him, the mystic spell that had been cast over Mexica and him vaporizing into the air. "We are leaving."

Spain had hardly taken two steps into the campsite before Cortes was upon him like a moth to a flame.

"Señor," [Sir,] He exclaimed excitedly. "Tengo informacion fantastico." [I have excellent news.]

"sí?"[Yes?]

"Se me ha dado un regalo. Un regalo excelente." [I have been given a gift. An excellent gift.]

"Oh?"

"El hombre me reuní con hoy me ofreció un esclavo. Un esclavo que hable español y Nahlut." [The chief I met with today offered me a slave. A slave who can speak both Spanish and Nahlut.]

"Español y qué?" [Spainish and what?]

Enthusiastically, Cortes motioned for Spain to follow him into his tent. There, Spain's eyes fell on a beautiful young girl, gazing back at him with large brown eyes, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders.

"Ella es bella." [She is lovely.]

"Gracias, Señor." [thank you, sir] the girl said in thickly accented Spanish.

"Comó te llamas, Señorita?" [What are you called, my lady?]

"Ustedes me llaman Marina." [They call me Marina.*]

"¿de qué eres tú para mí?" [Marina…what use are you to me?]

"Soy de aquí. Puedo hablar con los mayans y aztecas." [I am of this land. I can speak to both the Mayans and the Aztecs.]

"¿Quién?" [Who?]Spain asked.

"Ella me ha hablado de estos aztecas." [She has told me of these Aztecs,] chimed in Cortes. "Un imperio poderoso y rico, no te diferencia, aquí en esta tierra. Barbaric en la naturaleza, sino éxito en sus conquistas. Su ciudad capital, Tenochtitlan, se encuentra en un valle en un terreno conocido como Mexica." [A powerful and wealthy empire, not unlike yourself, here in this land. Barbaric in nature but successful in their conquests. Their capitol city, Tenochitlan, is in a valley in a land known as Mexica.]

"Mexica?" Spain repeated. "Ja, lo que es un interesante giro de los acontecimientos." [Ha, what an interesting turn of events.]

"¿Señor?"[Sir?]

"He conocido a este imperio" [I have met this empire] Spain explained. "Le ayudó este mismo día. Yo sé dónde vive y estoy de acuerdo que: incluso desde lejos esta tierra parece magnífico." [I assisted her this very day. I know where she lives and I must agree: even from afar this land looks magnificent.]

"Señor, ya he escrito el rey de mi plan conquistar a estas personas en nombre del cristianismo y la corona española. Creo que sería una excelente adición a nuestro imperio" [Sir, I have already written the king of my plan to conquer these people in the name of Christianity and the Spanish crown. I believe it would be an excellent addition to our empire.]

"Eso no es lo que nos mandaron a hacer aquí." [That is not what we were sent here to do.] said Spain.

"Pues… no." [Well… no.]

"Pero me gusta lo mucho mas." [But I like it much better,] Spain said with a cold smile. "Estas personas deben tener oro, ¿no?" [These people must have gold, yes?] he directed at Marina.

"Así es. Más de lo que pueda imaginar." [Indeed. More than you can possibly imagine.]

"Este será nuestro objetivo. Cortés, reunir a los hombres. Salimos en la madrugada de este imperio." [This will be our target. Cortes, round up the men. We set sail at dawn for this empire.]

A/N: I swear it gets interesting again. I swear! D: Marina has been given many names by history so if you know her by something else, that's okay. She was one of two translators Hernan Cortes had in the New World. She is the most famous likely because of the rumored love scandal between her and the commander. Oooh what could I possibly do with this little tidbit of information? Wait and find out!

So I'm all settled into my dorm for Collage now and will be starting classes in a few days. So unfortunately, you really can't expect faster updates. But I will continue this story as I can between mass amounts of homework, other stories, and my novel. In the meantime, show me I'm loved and I'll update again. Review!


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